A Memorable Occasion
by The Darkness Factor
Summary: There are aliens in London. Business as usual, but all Jack can do is wonder why Martha's so worried. And also why the Doctor can't seem to dress properly.
1. Part I

**A/N: **This fic is a gift for one of my LJ friends, who gave me this prompt: "The Eleventh Doctor is on his Farewell Tour (set just after Closing Time). He thought Craig was the last person on his list, but he is not. Who else would he see? And how would the meeting go?"

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**A Memorable Occasion**

**Part I**

The explosion painted the sky azure.

Martha was moving at once, doing damage control.

"Monitor whatever telephone calls you can, find out how many people saw it and if it's enough to be taken seriously. The last thing we want is for the press to be getting ahold of this story. Colin, how many were stationed in that area?"

"Four, ma'am," he replied.

Martha Jones raced around the pile of disused tech to look at his computer screen. They were holed up in an unmarked truck in a deserted lot, a few blocks away from the explosion. Jennifer and Harold, also in the truck, were alternating between typing furiously and reporting to their superiors. Martha's phone buzzed with an incoming call, but the moment she saw who it was, she canceled it.

"I'm going out there," she said, double checking for her handgun.

"Ma'am, I really must protest—"

Martha silenced him with a look.

Jennifer jumped up from her seat before any of them could say anything else, shoving several papers into Martha's hands. "These are the readings we were able to take of the site just now. Radiation levels, toxicity, a list of trace substances we were able to get from the scans that we just took of the area. Sorry, it's not much, I'll be working on a more detailed analysis later."

"Thanks, Jen." Martha didn't have time to smile. "Right you lot, Harold's in charge. Keep on a lookout for any similar spikes around here, but _don't_ go looking for them."

The three of them saluted sharply, which nearly had Martha rolling her eyes, but she was already halfway out the back door to the truck, jumping down to the pavement. She barely felt any exertion as she sprinted the short distance of a few blocks to where the explosion had originated. It was one of their watch points, so Martha knew that it couldn't be a coincidence. Jennifer had been right about the transmissions in this area: something else was going on.

Only a lone dog-walker saw the woman dressed in black military fatigues race down the street, but he only stared for a moment before continuing on his sojourn.

Her phone buzzed again. Unable to take the time to cancel the call, Martha ignored it again. She would deal with the voicemails later.

There was no noticeable change in the explosion radius; as it had earlier, the street contained a block of condominiums that sat sleepily in their places, the windows dark due to the late hour. Unlike earlier, however, there was no sign of any of the UNIT personnel that had surreptitiously taken up positions at various spots. Martha checked each one for clues, starting with the ancient oak tree and ending with the mailbox that had the Union Jack on it.

Apart from one of the red berets, she found nothing.

Martha moved until her back was against one of the trees before pulling out the papers that Jen had given her. No alarming spikes in radiation, no lethal elements in the atmosphere— apart from a brief increase in what appeared to be pure energy, there was nothing to indicate that there had even been an explosion at all.

Martha mentally categorized what she knew of alien technology. As far as she could remember, none of the species she had encountered thus far were capable of producing explosions without some kind of aftereffect. Whoever this lot were, they were good.

For the third time that night, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Still keeping one eye on her surroundings, she checked the caller ID. Jennifer.

"Yes?"

"The energy spike was the effect, not the cause."

"What?"

Jennifer let out a huff. Martha knew what that meant.

"Try to explain in English, at least."

"Yes, ma'am." The sarcasm was easy to detect. "Look, basically what happened was that the explosion was the effect, not the cause. I've managed to back-trace the chemical composition in the air with the scanners we set up, going through each millisecond of the explosion to see if anything changes. You'll have noticed that there was no particular indication of any use of lethal weaponry, right?"

"I noticed," said Martha impatiently. Her arm jerked at sudden movement out of the corner of her eye, but it was only a raccoon.

"Well, moments before the big blue… thing— sorry, there's really no technical term for it— a really faint signal was sent out. What's weird about it is that it behaved like a living thing, or some kind of search-and-destroy algorithm."

Martha forced herself to take a deep breath. "And it found what it was looking for?"

"Yes ma'am." Jennifer lowered her voice. "It hunted down our four soldiers and, to put it simply, converted matter into energy."

This nearly rendered Martha speechless, but she wasn't in charge of this particular missions for nothing. "The energy spikes—"

"Yeah."

Martha closed her eyes.

"Ready the truck for departure," she said in a low voice. "We're heading back to HQ for the night."

"Understood, ma'am."

Martha snapped her phone shut. Before she made a move to leave the completely innocent row of condominiums, she flipped through the papers one last time to look at the chart of energy readings. She needed to stare at four particular hikes in the data for a good five minutes before she was finally able to move.

* * *

Stetson.

Jack blinked.

The man wasn't half-bad looking, either, but his dress sense left something to be desired. _That _coat with _that _hat? Either would have looked fine on their own, but the combination of the two made him question what sensibility there was in allowing this man to dress on his own.

"Are those what you call important questions?" exclaimed the man. He looked young and he sounded young. "What about, 'Should I or should I not be making sure that the space under my bed isn't occupied by Sandleberg Newts?' Or, 'Is the neighbor's cat really a cat, or is it really an assassin'— not that you could tell the difference. Personally, I think that all cats have it out for us. They're just biding their time. Visit one of the hospitals in New New York, you'll see what I mean."

"Am I dead?" Jack blurted out.

"Well, you were." The man paused, shifting a bit. "Probably. I think? I'm not sure if there's a difference between being dead or just being unconscious for you anymore. You get to wake up from both."

The man was wearing a bowtie, as well. Jack added that to his mental list of 'things that should not be worn in combination with one another'.

"How did I even get here?" he groaned, rolling over onto his side and finding himself face-to-face with blue. "Oh."

Upon rolling back over, other surroundings began to take shape as well. The shimmering light bouncing off the walls of London's underground catacombs, caused by a combination of the harvest moon and a canal that snaked its way through the darkness. Jack dimly recalled tracking his quarry through here when an impact with his head made everything go dark.

"She really has it out for me, doesn't she?" Jack asked, looking back at the TARDIS.

The Doctor shrugged. "Debatable, I s'pose. She's a bit cross with me at the moment as well, so it could very well not be you. Sorry about crashing into you. I was aiming for ancient China; I thought I might be able to visit Confucius for a few days. Did you know that Confucius was actually an alien? Anyway, Jack Harkness! As much of a fixed point as ever!"

"Thanks for the reminder," Jack replied, standing and dusting his coat off. "Not a bad look, Doc, but I stand by what I said before about the way you dress."

"Oi! There is nothing wrong with the way I dress!"

Jack gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder before he searched for any signs of the thing he had been chasing. "You didn't happen to see a humanoid-but-not-human being run through here after you landed, did you?"

"Nope."

It seemed that the Doctor had become a professional at appearing to be unconcerned, but the minute Jack turned his back he heard the whirring of the sonic. He made to slip his own scanner out of his coat, but discovered his pocket was vacant.

"Damn," he muttered.

"Trace signs of a—"

When the Doctor abruptly stopped speaking, Jack winced.

He was expecting something like a half-hearted glare when he turned around to face his old friend. The exasperated look that said, 'What are you doing _now,_ Jack?' The eyes that he came face-to-face with now were dark green, accusing, and ancient.

He was well aware of the Time Lords' ability to reduce their age rate. But the Doctor's previous incarnation had never really struck Jack as _old_— not in the way that this one did, now.

Jack raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to ignore the ice that was crawling up his spine. "I'm just doing Martha a favor." He paused. "You, uh, remember Martha, right?"

In only a moment the Doctor's expression cleared. "Martha Jones!" he exclaimed happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "How could I forget Martha Jones, the woman who walked the Earth? How is she? Splendid as ever, I suspect."

"Doing well, from what she told me." In truth, Martha hadn't provided many details about her personal life in her short phone conversation with Jack. She'd sounded distracted.

"Right. Good." The Doctor pirouetted to face the canal again. "Your quarry swam for it, by the way. So! You, Jack Harkness, are trying to hunt down a Lvaaina, for some reason that Martha failed to disclose to you. Since no Lvaaina has made any attempt to leave their home system in their official published history _ever_ (information courtesy of a friend of mine at Luna University, I should add), I can't imagine what they might be doing here. _Or,_" and here his eyes changed again, "what you might want with them. Lvaaina are probably the most peaceful creatures in all of existence. Absolutely no evidence of warfare of any kind."

Jack could only shrug helplessly. "I only know what Martha told me. She gave me explicit instructions not to hurt it, but…"

"Something's clearly wrong," the Doctor finished.

"Martha told me that she's set up a temporary headquarters somewhere in west London."

"Then that's where we're headed!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Come along, Po— Jack."

Jack watched curiously as the Doctor made a peculiar face, as though he'd eaten something distasteful and felt the immediate need to spit it back out again. He began muttering to himself as he pushed open the TARDIS door, but the only thing Jack was able to catch was, "…not the same…"

The Doctor wasn't the only one to have regenerated, it would seem. Jack nearly stopped in his tracks at the unfamiliar interior, but decided that he liked it after taking a moment to absorb the soft, but warm lighting it provided. There was an artfulness, or maybe an elegance, to it that the older, more antiquated desktop had lacked. He did raise an eyebrow at some of the unusual contraptions on the console (a typewriter?), but he was quickly distracted by the whirring noise as the Doctor and his ship took off.

Jack grinned. At least the sound hadn't changed.

"No fellow travelers?" he inquired.

Clearly the Doctor wasn't expecting the question, because he almost tripped over himself while doing another spin.

"What?" he asked, once he'd regained his footing. Jack eyed the way he twisted his hands together. "No, no. Well, yes— good friends of mine, the Ponds— but, well. They've settled down now. Bought them a house and everything. And a car! Rory's favorite car. He wasn't expecting that one, let me tell you."

"You usually find someone new."

The Doctor moved around to the other side of the console, using the column to block Jack's view of him.

"I dunno. Might be different this time around. Here we are! Scanner says we ought to be parked right outside Martha's spot."

Jack meant to ask more, but the Doctor was off like a rocket, bounding out the door without waiting for Jack. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that this Doctor would be even more difficult to get a straight answer out of than the last, before following.

It was still early evening; Jack checked his mental clock, and decided that the Doctor probably hadn't accidentally jumped ahead a year. The sun bled orange across the horizon. It suited the run down warehouse that served as Martha's headquarters, the light reflecting off the metal that the now-peeling paint was beginning to expose. Already the Doctor was arguing with one of the beret-capped soldiers, probably because none of them would dare believe that the illustrious Doctor would wear something as ridiculous as a bowtie.

He sauntered over, flashing a charming smile at the guard. "Captain Jack Harkness. Martha Jones is probably waiting for me inside."

The guard seemed oblivious to his flirtatious tone, choosing instead to stare at him sullenly before he stepped aside to let them through.

It could hardly be called a buzz of activity. The warehouse had only one— albeit large— room, in which several workstations had been set up for the scientists to carry out their contributions to the mission. There weren't many soldiers present, apart from the guard that he and the Doctor had encountered. One or two, waiting for orders, and Jack guessed that there were probably a few more stationed around the perimeter.

Martha herself was slumped over a steel table that had several maps on it. Jack guessed that she was trying to triangulate the position of the other Lvaaina, with minimal success. He noticed the Doctor falter at the sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but he himself didn't pause as he made his way over to her.

"Martha Jones," he said, saluting with a grin.

Her slight jump was succeeded by a bright smile at the sight of him. "Jack," she greeted him, scoffing at his salute and embracing him instead. "I'm sorry for throwing this on you all of a sudden. How are you?"

"I've been making do." Jack had been exploring ancient assassin cults for the past 50 years, but Martha didn't need to know that. "And it isn't any trouble, Martha. Really. You look awful, by the way."

"Work." Martha gestured to where the similarly haggard science officers sat at their computers, hacking away at keyboards. "You know how it is. I can't afford any breaks, not with something on this scale."

"You also shouldn't have to work on something of this scale by yourself," he told her. "Why haven't UNIT sent any reinforcements if it's getting to be serious? And where's Mickey Mouse?"

"He's at home."

Jack stared at her.

Martha stared right back at him, an unreadable expression on her face. There were the beginnings of lines underneath her eyes— barely noticeable, but there. She didn't look underfed, at the very least, but well-rested was another matter entirely.

"A couple of nights ago, before I contacted you," Martha began, looking back down at her maps. "There was a sudden explosion here: Charrington Road. It didn't cause any physical damage at all, and the only readings we were able to get were four energy spikes and a search-and-destroy signal that was sent out moments before the explosion." She stopped, looking at her hands. "I had four soldiers stationed there. They were gone by the time I arrived on the scene."

Jack tensed. However peace-loving the Doctor claimed the Lvaaina to be, it was clear that they weren't too keen on maintaining that reputation.

"We've spent the past two days trying to find the origin of the signal," Martha continued. "Whatever they did, though, they've covered their tracks well. The trail's getting colder every hour we fail to find them."

"You don't know that they haven't left yet," Jack reasoned.

"Why wouldn't they? I doubt they would want us to find them—"

"Look, they're probably hiding something in this area, and they saw the soldiers you posted as a threat."

To the side, someone coughed.

Jack forced himself to stop for a moment, surprised to discover that he'd nearly forgotten that the Doctor was there. He looked at the Time Lord, who stood a few feet away, fidgeting with his hands again. His eyes darted between Martha and Jack, as though debating which of the two he ought to speak to first.

"I forgot to mention," Jack added, "that I brought along a surprise."

This seemed to break the Doctor out of his dilemma. "_You_ brought—? I'll have you know, Jack, that the TARDIS was actually being nice for once. Next time maybe I ought to actually charge you a fee!"

Jack lifted up his arm, allowing the sleeve of his coat to slide down and reveal the vortex manipulator affixed to his wrist. "I could've gotten here easily, Doc."

"Doesn't count," he muttered.

"Doctor?"

For the first time since their arrival, Martha looked like she was really alive. The shock had brought some of the light back to her eyes.

"Is it really…? I mean, it makes sense. That look you gave me and Mickey, and I just knew— but of course you got younger. And of course your dress sense got worse."

The Doctor spluttered wordlessly. Jack, on the other hand, mumbled, "_Finally, _someone else."

Martha was quick to pull the alien into a hug. The Doctor flailed a bit before he seemed to sag forward slightly, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh into her shoulder. Something about the vulnerability of his gesture— something his previous incarnation would never have shown— made Jack's heart ache a bit. Whereas before, when the Doctor found out that Jack was looking for a Lvaaina, he had looked old, he now looked like a child.

When the two broke apart, Martha appraised him. "Not taking care of yourself again, are you?"

The Doctor laughed quietly. "When do I, Martha Jones?"

Jack smiled to himself, letting the two of them catch up while he looked over the maps himself. There were scribbles and crossed out lines in red pen, notes in the smallest of white spaces and an array of what he knew to be different attempts to find the location of the signal.

He looked for the street that Martha had mentioned, and saw what neighborhood it was in.

The dots connected.


	2. Part II

**A/N: **Here's part two! It may seem like I didn't reveal a whole lot, but this fic is very much an in-between-the-lines fic. I'm also experimenting with a minimalist style of writing in this, so I'm not really sure how that'll work out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.

Enjoy!

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**Part II**

Hannah hummed as she locked her front door. Her shoulder bag was heavier than normal, weighed down by the books she needed for university. Her cell phone briefly chimed in a text message from one of her classmates, which she only rolled her eyes at before setting off for school.

She waved at the neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Levy were an elderly couple who had always looked after her when she was younger and her parents were both away from home. Every morning they sat out on their front porch and watched the sunrise, which Hannah had always thought was sweet. She adored them.

"Oh, Hannah dear!" called Mrs. Levy, beckoning when she noticed her.

Hannah blinked in surprise, but offered a smile as she walked towards them. "Morning," she said brightly. "How are you both?"

"Oh, we're fine, don't worry about us," Mrs. Levy said, waving a hand. "I just wanted to check up on you today."

Hannah blinked in surprise. "I'm alright. Why?"

Mr. and Mrs. Levy exchanged glances then, but Hannah couldn't decipher them. To her, it was as though they were having a private conversation, and it wasn't her place to intrude— even if the subject of that conversation was herself. She folded her hands a bit nervously and waited for one of them to speak again.

"I was just remembering your allergy attack from last week, dear," said Mrs. Levy at last, smiling kindly. "I hope you've recovered by now?"

"Oh— yeah, of course."

Hannah was confused. She'd had an allergy attack last Tuesday, but she'd been over it by Friday. Now it was Tuesday again, and her allergies had showed no signs of coming back. Hannah's mind went to the half-full tissue packet in her book bag, which she no longer needed, and decided that it would be useful to keep it with her. She never knew when one of her friends might need one.

She jerked out of her reverie, remembering the time.

"Sorry, but I really need to—"

"Yes, right. Sorry to bother you, Hannah. Have a good day at school!"

Hannah said a quick goodbye before hurrying to class.

What was that about?

* * *

"What's wrong?"

The Doctor had lowered his voice so much that Martha almost didn't hear him. She looked over at him and looked away almost immediately, trying (and probably failing) to hide her shock at the knowing glint in his eye. She'd never seen an expression like that on the face of his tenth self. Usually it was her who was asking what was wrong.

"Nothing," she replied.

He didn't say anything else. He did, however, continue to stare at her.

"Okay," Jack said. "So, we're hunting Lvaaina. Any particular reason they might be here? Are you sure that their history was completely non-violent, Doctor?"

"Yes." Already the Doctor looked annoyed at the lack of faith in his memory. "They had several off-planet visitors during their civilization, but none of them ever harmed the Lvaaina and left in peace. It doesn't make sense!"

"Never mind that it doesn't make sense," said Martha. Jack looked grim, but the Doctor seemed surprise by her tone of voice. "We need to pinpoint the origin of that signal. I can't afford to lose any more men than I already have, and we need to find out what they're doing here."

"You attacked first," the Doctor pointed out. "They were probably only defending themselves. They haven't done anything to provoke you, which leads me to wonder: why be so adamant about finding them, Martha?"

Martha kept her face closed. "Alien presence is reason enough to look into it. We weren't going to hurt them."

"Were the sentries you posted unarmed?"

At that question, she felt her face heat up slightly. For the first time, she was somewhat annoyed that the Doctor was there, but she needed him if she had any hope of tracking down the signal. She did miss him, but for the first time she felt the weight of having to keep something from him.

The Doctor must have noticed her deflation, because his face flashed triumph briefly before it was buried in a focused expression. He pulled out what Martha assumed was a sonic screwdriver (it was larger than the one she was familiar with, but the noise it made was still the same). "Where exactly did your sentries disappear, again?"

Martha almost sighed in relief.

"Follow me," she said.

She led the way to one of the UNIT Jeeps, noticing but not caring that the Doctor looked uncomfortable with getting in any vehicle besides the TARDIS. Jack called shotgun in a joking voice, but his heart didn't really seem in it.

He caught her eye as she started the truck, but she gave a miniscule shake of her head. He'd seen the maps, then. He'd realized just what it was she was worried about.

They drove in a tense silence, each all too aware of the fact that the others were hiding something. For the Doctor, that was a given; Martha knew that. Jack had had his own share of problems, if the rumors that Martha kept hearing about Torchwood were true. She herself was obviously refusing to share details about her personal life, and she was keeping her mouth shut about an important part of the mission, too.

She pulled over to the curb. The homely street looked different in the daylight.

"James and Cole were stationed at both ends of the block," she explained, pointing. "Helena and Marco were patrolling up and down. I don't know where they were, exactly, when the signal was sent out. We only knew that something happened because there was a blue flash on the footage we were taking on the block."

The three of them left the Jeep.

"Why only here?" the Doctor asked, frowning.

"This was where one of the Lvaaina was spotted," Martha explained. "Small, humanoid bodies, but it's like looking at an x-ray; you can see the bones through the skin."

"Yep, that's the Lvaaina." The Doctor waved his screwdriver around erratically. "And you're right about a search-and-destroy signal, too. This is the Bloodhound Algorithm, a nasty thing. The war that broke out over this in the Stracni Galaxy was one of the deadliest in all of history. The question is: how did the Lvaaina get their hands on this kind of destructive technology?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Martha replied. "I've never heard of the Bloodhound Algorithm, and none of the scientists were able to decipher it, let alone identify it."

"Probably for the best," he muttered. "Anyway, the algorithm originated to the west, not far from here. Could probably find it on foot."

He bounced away, leaving Martha and Jack to follow him.

"I understand why you're doing this," Jack said to her. "But you might have to make a difficult choice in the future. You really think that they're here because—?"

"It's too much of a coincidence. They're practically in the same neighborhood."

The three of them went past several blocks of small, quaint houses. Children sometimes ran past them, while at other times the adults gave them funny glances. Martha felt more on edge than ever before, glancing around nervously whenever movement caught her eye. She was all too aware of how strange she must've looked, in full uniform as she was. Thankfully, her gun was concealed.

"Here," the Doctor announced, pointing his screwdriver at a house that looked like all the rest. There was nothing remarkable about it at all. Martha felt how surreal the situation was even more than before.

"It'd be rude not to say hello."

"Wait!" she exclaimed. When the Doctor turned to look at her expectantly, she realized that he still thought her input counted for something, even if she did send armed sentries looking for the aliens. "I just… they destroyed my men in seconds. How are we going to know that they won't do it again?"

"Common courtesy, Martha Jones," the Doctor replied, grinning at her. For one moment, it was like old times, back when they were travelling together, and she found herself smiling back. Reality settled heavily on her shoulders again when he turned away and went up to the door, ringing the bell.

She wasn't expecting the elderly woman who answered the door.

"Good afternoon," she said. "But I think you may have the wrong house."

Martha almost groaned when the Doctor's response to that was shoving the sonic in the woman's face. "Nope," he said. "This is definitely the right house. And you're a Lvaaina, correct?"

"Way to be subtle, Doc," mumbled Jack.

The woman gave them all a bemused smile, but the tightness on the edges of it didn't escape Martha's notice. "I'm sorry, a what?"

The Doctor sighed. "Come on, really?" he complained. "I've gotten so bored of the playing dumb act, and it never works, you know. Like with the Slitheen, they were the worst liars I've ever seen, you know. It didn't help that they were farting left and right, it was very distracting."

Martha stepped in. "Look, please just tell us why you're here. So long as it isn't harmful to the human race, we'll leave you be. I swear."

Her plea seemed to reach the woman more than the Doctor's rambling, and with a soft sigh she moved aside, gesturing for them to come in. Martha nodded to her gratefully, finding it difficult to reconcile the elderly woman with the race that was responsible for the deaths of four of her men. She couldn't afford to hold that grudge right now.

"Forgive me if I don't offer you tea," the woman said.

"Tea sounds wonderful!" the Doctor proclaimed.

Martha shot him a look, and he amended his statement to, "But I could go without."

The woman led them to the sitting room, where she perched herself in an armchair and gestured for the three of them to sit. If she noticed how out of place Martha and Jack must have looked (the Doctor looked out of place everywhere he went), she chose not to comment on it.

"Lvaaina don't have names," she began, "but here I am known as Marianne Levy. My partner and I are doing some reconnaissance here, merely out of curiosity. We're scholars, you see."

What sort of scholars have access to the Bloodhound Algorithm? Martha wondered.

"We are a people who wish to learn," Marianne continued. "We only want to gain information on human beings. Your culture differs from ours greatly. The passion that many of your carry. The diversity." Her eyes traveled to Jack, then to Martha. "The violence."

Martha opened her mouth to speak, but Jack beat her to it. "And how, exactly, does using a Bloodhound Algorithm make you different from us?"

"There were soldiers posted nearby. We acted out of self-defense."

"You're scholars," Martha said. "Why keep it a secret at all? If you already knew a lot about our world, you could've just made contact with UNIT. We would've made arrangements for you to carry out your studies here, without any confusion about our soldiers' intentions. We had to react that way to your presence, it's our job."

"I have nothing more to say," Marianne said. "What's done is done. I have given you our reasons. Now make good on your word, and leave us be."

The Doctor looked thoughtful, but he nodded all the same. Martha, however, wasn't finished yet.

"Doctor, Jack," she said. "Would you wait outside for a minute? I have one more question that I need to ask."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her, as did Jack, though for different reasons. The Time Lord looked like he was about to protest this, but Jack dragged him out of the room, shaking his head. Marianne raised an eyebrow at Martha when they both left, clearly unimpressed by the flat look she was giving her.

"I know you're lying," Martha explained. She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, standing and handing it to Marianne. "You're stationed very close to this address. Any particular reason why?"

The elderly woman turned the paper over in her hands slowly, staring at it for a moment.

"Of course," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

The Doctor didn't like being left out of the loop.

He knew that Jack and Martha both knew something more about this, something that they clearly didn't want him to find out. It reminded him of when Amy, Rory and River kept his impending death from him— the one that he was trying to run from now. He wanted to breach the subject with Jack, but he wasn't sure where to begin. Was Mickey's absence connected, in some way?

Without warning, Martha burst through the front door, a panicked look on her face.

"Doctor!" she yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tried to reply, but the terror he saw stole his breath. "Please, for once, don't question what I'm about to say, just listen: there's a bookstore around the corner, about three-quarters of the way down the block, on the left. You need to go there right now, you here me? Promise me you will— you'll know what to do when you get there."

She shoved a cell phone into his hands. "I'll text you when it's safe."

Ordinarily, he would have protested. The look in Martha's eyes stopped him this time. He didn't think, he just started running. He barely heard Martha say something to Jack along the lines of, "…only one she hasn't…"

He sprinted down the street, ignoring the odd looks he got from passerby. Around the corner, the road was lined with small stores, some displaying trinkets in their windows while others hosted tables and chairs— small eateries, he guessed. He didn't even bother reading the name of the bookstore on the sign, only registering that several large children's books were featured in the front window.

The Doctor entered the shop, out of breath, in time to hear a woman in the back of the shop call something out.

"Don't you forget who organized the backroom the other day; you owe me!"

He felt the breath rush out of his lungs in a breathless laugh, as the rest of Martha's words filled themselves in:

"He's the only one she hasn't seen before."

Donna stuck her head out from behind the bookshelves. "Oi, mate," she said. "You having a heart attack or something? It's a bloody bookstore, none of us are medically trained, you know."

He had thought his mouth incapable of working, but somehow it did. "Yes. No. I mean, yes, I was definitely was, but I think it's probably going away now. However, I want to go for a walk, and it's best if you come with me, because I might have another one, and I don't have a phone to call the police."

"What're you—" She yelped when he lunged forward, all but dragging her out the door with him back into the sunlight. She snarled at him as he pulled her back the way he'd come, ignoring her protests. He didn't know what, exactly, was wrong; he just had to keep an eye on Donna until Martha was able to tell him that it was safe. The red haired woman did not take kindly to being dragged anywhere, though.

"I'm still on my shift, you loon!" she hissed at him, though not loudly enough to make a scene. "Couldn't you have found someone else to kidnap?"

Her words reminded him of the first time they met, and if his grip tightened unconsciously, he excused it as him being paranoid. Who knew why the Lvaaina were after Donna?

* * *

"Our daughter was kidnapped, several years ago," Marianne said, "by Daleks. The memories that she had— of the torture that she suffered at their hands, and of the many times that they tried to infiltrate her brain— were so traumatizing that she barely knew where she was after we managed to get her back. They felt the need to experiment on Lvaaina, but their technology cannot affect us. Our biology does not allow it, as they found out. We managed to rescue her before they were about to 'dispose' of her."

"That's horrible," Martha admitted. "But that doesn't explain why—" It hit her. "You wiped your daughter's memories, didn't you?"

"We didn't know it would heal her for certain," Marianne admitted. "We needed to find a concrete example of success. A neurological analysis of all human beings on Earth revealed to us that Donna Noble had successfully undergone the process, and that she was living a happy life here without memories. We decided to use a biological converter to alter our daughter's, and at the same time make her into a human. The catch is that she only stays human so long as she believes that she's human. Were she to ever regain what she's lost…"

"She'd go back to being a Lvaaina."

Marianne smiled wanly. "You are astute," she said. "There was no way for us to know that the process was permanent, with our method. Any day there could have been a trigger that would return her memories to her. We stay here, near Donna Noble, in hopes of finding a way of replicating the process that was used on her."

Martha shook her head. "You won't be able to find one," she told Marianne. "What was done to Donna can't— and shouldn't— be done to anyone else. Trauma or no trauma, Donna would never have chosen it, and the man who did it to her won't do it again."

"You misunderstand me," Marianne said. "I wasn't going to tell you, but we assumed that no one would be concerned for Donna Noble were she to vanish."

Martha's eyes widened. "Not concerned—? She's married, for god's sake!"

"We will return her in a few days' time—"

"You don't think aliens might trigger her memories?" asked Martha, barely able to keep her voice steady. "They won't just traumatize her— they'll kill her! She can't ever remember!"

Marianne looked shocked; she really hadn't known that, then. "I—"

Martha grabbed her by the shoulders. "What are they planning?"

"They're going to take her back to our planet. Today. Soon."

* * *

Martha and Jack went back inside Marianne's house to face the music, both with grim looks on their faces. Jack was worried about what the Doctor's reaction to finding Donna in the bookstore would be, but at that moment that was the least of their problems. He hovered somewhat defensively over Martha as she strode into the sitting room, as four pairs of eyes landed on her.

"Marianne Levy tells us you wish to dissuade us from the operation," said one Lvaaina.

All four were still maintaining their disguises. There was an elderly man next to Marianne, who Jack guessed was Marianne's partner. The other two in the room were dressed professionally in black suits, looking like members of MI5 or some other intelligence agency. Both had brown hair and were the same height; they could've been fraternal twins.

"Donna Noble is necessary for their daughter's safety," said the young man.

"Maybe," Martha admitted. "But Donna's safety is important, too. Her situation isn't completely stable, either; if she sees anything related to her past, her memories will come back, and they won't just traumatize her. If you take her with you, the risk is too large."

The young woman tilted her head to the side. "Why do you fear for her safety? You're merely a government agent."

Jack winced.

Martha drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I was a freelancer until very recently," she said through gritted teeth. "And Donna Noble happens to be a very close personal friend of mine, thank you very much. I am not going to stand by and let her be put in danger."

"Look," Jack intervened, looking at Marianne and her partner. "The best thing you can do for your daughter is reduce the risk of exposure to her past. There's virtually nothing here that could trigger her memories. She can live a long and happy life here, as long as she never sees any of you in your true forms again."

"That is too much," the young woman snapped. "We—"

"Wait."

Marianne had spoken. She stepped forward, switching her scrutiny from Jack to Martha and back again. Then she sagged.

"Truly," she whispered. "Studying Donna Noble will not help our daughter, will it?"

Both Jack and Martha shook their heads.

"Very well," she sighed. To the younger two, she said, "Call off the operation. Leave Donna Noble alone."

The young woman looked like she was about to protest, but the man beside her bowed his head. He motioned that the two of them should leave the room, and after a moment's hesitation she did so, with him following behind her.

"I'm sorry," Marianne said to them. "Sometimes we forget that the world doesn't revolve around our child. It tends to make any parent selfish."

"Does it?" Martha murmured, almost to herself. Jack cast her a sharp look, but she was already continuing. "UNIT will be leaving you alone from now on. We don't have any reason to continue to watch you, or investigate you."

When they left the house, Jack looked over at Martha. He could see the way she was slouching as she walked.

"How do you know they won't go back on their word?"

"Because I saw the look that Marianne had," Martha answered. "She wasn't reluctant, or angry, or desperate. She was just defeated."

* * *

"I don't believe you," Donna said.

The Doctor straightened, feeling indignant. "What? I am! I'm thirty."

"Yeah, right. You look about twelve."

Inwardly he exhaled in relief; for a moment he thought she was going to demand that he was far older than he looked, and that would have caused all kinds of problems.

Donna huffed. "I should be madder at you for dragging me out of the shop," she said, "but mostly I'm just relieved that I don't dress like you."

The Doctor scowled. "What is with people criticizing the way I dress today?"

"Come on, mate. You can hardly call it 'dressing'."

"Oi!"

"'Oi', what? What're you going to do about it? I'm entitled to my opinion, dumbo."

He suppressed a grimace at her words. He could almost see the invisible wall that separated the two of them. He could see her, certainly, but she was beyond his reach. The Doctor couldn't help but think that she looked more magnificent than ever, glaring at him while they strode down the block together.

The buzzing in his pocket alerted him. He opened the phone to see the message 'Problem resolved', which made his stomach sink.

"It's probably about time you got back to your shift, eh?" he said to her, throwing her a brilliant grin.

"'Bout bloody time," muttered Donna. "I can escort myself back, by the way."

"Right, of course," he answered her. This time he failed to smile.

"Oh, and do me a favor, weirdo," she added, already striding away from him. This time, when she looked at him, her eyes softened somewhat. "Stop looking like your dog died. The world's not that bad, you know. If I can learn that lesson, so can you."

As he watched her back recede, he realized that this time, she was the one leaving him. He had never been more grateful for that fact.

* * *

The drive back to the underground canal where the Doctor had left the TARDIS was tense.

Martha wasn't sure what to do with herself. Jack had made a few feeble attempts at conversation, but they all fell flat. The Doctor sat in the shadows in the back of the vehicle, staring out the window and more silent than he'd ever been in all the time she'd known him. She never got the chance to apologize to him for making him be the one to go get Donna away from the bookstore (in case the Lvaaina did go through with their plan), but it seemed to be too late now.

"Well, here we are," Jack said. "Guess I'll, uh, see you some indeterminate time in the future, right Doc?"

"Hm? Oh, yes."

He got out of the truck. Martha, on impulse, jumped out of her door as well, and a slam behind her told her that Jack did the same.

In front of her, the Doctor seemed to deflate.

"I don't blame you, Martha," he announced.

She waited.

"But I think you have something to tell your husband, don't you?"

Martha couldn't suppress a quiet laugh. "Right. I probably should."

He turned around, smiling slightly, and she recognized it as the same one he'd given her when she left him, after the business with the Master. It had been too short, she thought. The business with Donna had come and gone, and it left her with no chance to catch up with him. His recent travels didn't seem to be anything he wanted to discuss.

So she gave him another hug instead, this time being the one to let her weight fall into him a little. He let her, understanding that she was the one who needed it. He probably needed a little comfort as well, but Martha wasn't sure what she would be able to say to him.

"I'll see you again, mister," she said, smiling a little as she repeated her words from years ago.

"Without a doubt, Martha Jones," he replied. "I still have your phone, after all."

"I'd be cross if you threw it out."

"Oh, I see how it is," Jack said, suddenly appearing next to the two of them. "No goodbye hug for me?"

Martha snorted a little at the look on the Doctor's face, and laughed even more when Jack practically pounced on him regardless. The Time Lord yelped a bit and jumped away after a moment, glaring at Jack. "Was that really necessary?"

"Which part? The hug or the butt pinch? Because the answer is yes."

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"I'd best be off," he said, after a moment of silence. "Good luck, you two."

"Same to you," Martha said. "Whatever's going on with you— you know you'll get through it, right? We're here to help you, if you let us."

"Thank you."

With those words, he hesitated only a moment before he went to the tunnel entrance, where the darkness swallowed him.

Jack faced Martha. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah." Martha nodded at the truck, for some reason feeling a bit lighter on her toes. "C'mon, I need to make a report. Then I need to get back to Mickey. I've got something I need to tell him, anyway."


End file.
